Checkmate
by purpleraincloud
Summary: Ch. 4 up! Frank and Joe are invited to play a dangerous game of chess, where each move mirrors a real life event. When Frank disappears, Joe is left to play for the fate of them all.
1. Chapter One

Summary: The death of former colleague leads Fenton Hardy to New York…but the real danger starts to come home as Frank and Joe begin to be targeted in a string of accidents. They are invited to play a dangerous game of chess, where each move mirrors a real life event. When Frank mysteriously disappears, Joe is left alone to play for the fate of them all.  
  
Author's Notes: So I was trying to think if Frank or Joe would be the better chess player…Frank's definitely the strategic, methodical, think- what-the-other-guy's-thinking type of guy…but isn't what defenses, positions and strategies all what football (the sport Joe's great at) is all about? Anyway, I ultimately decided on Joe…argue with me if you'd like. It was my choice. =P  
  
Checkmate  
  
It was ten a.m. on an otherwise mediocre morning in Bayport. Seventeen year old, blonde, blue-eyed Joe Hardy knew it well. He had checked the blinking face of his clock twice that morning before realizing he had to get up. Brushing aside streaks of pale, blonde hair that flopped over his eyes, he ran downstairs for breakfast to be greeted with a slight snort of discontent from his elder brother, Frank.  
  
Frank Hardy was about an inch taller, a year older and with darker hair than Joe. Frank waved Joe's evil glares aside, focusing instead, on the chessboard that was in front of him.  
  
"What's that for?" Joe asked, stifling a yawn.  
  
Frank didn't shift his eyes from the board and replied; "I found it here this morning. I figure dad must have left it here."  
  
"God…I don't remember the last time I played chess." Joe mused, pulling the refrigerator door open and glancing inside at its contents.  
  
"I do. It was the ninth grade. You were on the team…until you lost to Gordon Johnson." Frank answered, changing the position of the pawn and knight. "It was a shame really…you were pretty good at it."  
  
"Did you find it all laid out like that?" Joe asked, pouring a glass of milk.  
  
Frank nodded. "Yup."  
  
"Well, then put it all back where you found it. Somebody was probably playing with it."  
  
Frank shrugged, holding the king between his fingers. "You're right. I will."  
  
Placing two pieces of bread in the toaster, Joe looked up to see Frank reading the morning paper.  
  
"Guess what?"  
  
Joe glanced up. "What?"  
  
"Dad's getting an honor from the NYPD for helping with the Stone case."  
  
Ken Stone was a forerunner in the Senate race; until it was uncovered he had been involved with two statutory rape cases, both of which ended up being dismissed. One of the girls, Kim Fields, threatened to go public with her story…a week later NYPD fished her remains out of the Hudson River. Stone was a top suspect until Fenton Hardy uncovered information about Edward Fields, Kim's ex-husband. The real brains behind the blackmail of Stone, who apparently served probation for six months for domestic violence. In a fit of jealousy, Fenton argued, Edward Fields must have murdered his wife. The case went to trial and Stone was acquitted.  
  
The media had a field day. Reporters swarmed the house for weeks wanting an interview with the private investigator.  
  
"I'm just happy the media blitz is over and we can all go back to our comfortable lives." Joe replied, flinging his arms up in the air.  
  
Frank laughed. "Don't lie. You loved the attention."  
  
Joe shrugged. "For a little while…but man it started to get to the point where we couldn't even go out for dinner without someone hounding us."  
  
Frank shrugged. "Well, it's all over now."  
  
"You know, I kind of feel kind of sorry for Fields though, imagine having your personal life splashed around like that…and now going to trial and possibly to jail now?" Joe mused, peeling the skin off an orange.  
  
"I guess I feel sorry for him too. But still, I don't completely buy his innocent act. There's just something about him I don't trust. I think there's more to the case that he's not admitting to."  
  
Joe shrugged. "Out of our hands now, big bro. Let the courts deal with her."  
  
"Still," Frank started, "I can't help but get the feeling…"  
  
"Woah there Mulder, don't get paranoid on me now." Joe replied with a short laugh, throwing an orange peel at Frank, who playfully swapped at Joe's arm in retaliation.  
  
"Hey," Frank shouted suddenly, jumping off his seat, "we better get going. Callie told us to meet her in front of the matinee by noon, remember?" Frank told his younger brother, checking his watch. They had fifteen minutes to get to the theater.  
  
The two brothers left the house, locking the doors behind them. Frank pulled out the keys to their father's truck from his pocket and slipped into the driver's seat. At five till noon the brothers met up with Callie Shaw, Frank's longtime girlfriend.  
  
"So are you all still up for 'The Royal Tenebaums' or would you rather catch the new Star Wars flick?" Callie asked, slipping her arm around Frank's and slapping Joe on the shoulder, quite hard.  
  
"Let's go in. I'm dying for some popcorn." She insisted, pulling Frank's arm.  
  
Frank nodded. "All right," signaling Callie to go in ahead. Shrugging, she did. Whirling, Frank met his baby brother's eyes. "I'm not seeing the Star Wars movie, okay?"  
  
"Why not?" Joe whined.  
  
"I've never seen any of them yet and I don't plan to start."  
  
Joe gave a pout and Frank laughed. "Not going to work, little brother. Let's go, maybe we can convince Callie to give us some of her raisinettes.  
  
Joe snorted. "She won't."  
  
Shrugging, Frank pushed Joe forward.  
  
***  
  
Exiting the theater two hours later, Frank stretched his stiff arms.  
  
"Well…that was…"  
  
"Not bad." Joe interjected, smiling.  
  
Frank feigned a smile. "I'm ready for something a little more active, what about you, little brother?"  
  
"I'm up for that. Let's check out the skate rink and then pick up a snack."  
  
Callie shrugged. "Sounds okay to me."  
  
The three agreed to leave their car parked by the theater since the rink was only a few blocks away. On a green light, the three prepared to cross an intersection when a black Cadillac shot a quick right turn and barreled down towards them. Without thinking, Frank shoved Callie away, who knocked into Joe, sending the two down onto the pavement. Looking up, Callie watched in horror as the driver accelerated towards Frank.


	2. Chapter Two

"FRANK!" Joe shouted, getting to his feet and preparing to put himself between his brother and the car. But that proved to be unnecessary. Hurling himself towards his brother and Callie, Frank narrowly evaded the Cadillac, which proceed to turn down the next block and disappear in the late afternoon sky.  
  
Callie got up; brushing the dirt from her jeans and helping a dazed Frank get on his feet. "What was that all about?" She demanded angrily.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Another proud graduate of the Bayport Department of Motor Vehicles, right Frank?"  
  
Frank remained inattentive, eyes gazing at the empty street.  
  
"Frank?" Callie asked cautiously.  
  
Turning to face her and Joe, he was met with two pairs of loving, concerned blue eyes.  
  
"I'm fine Callie. Thanks…"  
  
"You don't think this was an accident?" Joe asked, worriedly.  
  
"The driver accelerated when he spotted me, like he wanted to hit me…" Frank shook his head as if to clear it. "I know it…he wanted to hit us…"  
  
Joe gradually got to his feet as well. "No use in staying here. Callie, you should go home and Frank…we should probably talk to dad."  
  
Frank nodded and after promising to call her when they got home, Callie left in her mom's stationwagon while Frank pulled away in their dad's truck.  
  
"Who do you think is after us?" Joe asked.  
  
"I don't know. Usually this kind of stuff only happens when he get involved in a case and we haven't…not very recently anyway." Frank replied.  
  
"That's true…I mean…I guess there was that thing with Henry Riley and Tom Harding…but they wouldn't…"  
  
"Or it could be the Stone case."  
  
Joe thought this over for a second before replying, "Nah, that was dad's thing…"  
  
"Fields made bail yesterday."  
  
Joe shifted in his seat. "What?"  
  
"He was released yesterday. The bail was like 10,000 dollars…an anonymous donor paid for it."   
  
Joe shook his head. "Crazy."  
  
Frank nodded blankly. He knew what Joe was thinking because he was thinking it himself. The day of Field's hearing for the murder charge, a letter was sent to the Hardy residence addressed to Fenton threatening that if the case went to trial, "bad happenings" would occur.  
  
Pulling up into the driveway, Frank noticed the lights were on in the kitchen.  
  
"Mom's home early."  
  
Frank shrugged and used his keys on the front door, swinging it open.  
  
"Frank? Joe?" Laura Hardy's calm voice made Joe feel better all ready.  
  
"Here mom." Joe answered, throwing his jacket onto the sofa and collapsing into its cushions.  
  
"You two are home early."  
  
Frank shrugged. "So are you. Slow day at the center?"  
  
Laura sighed. "Well boys, I'm sorry to say that Michael Chavez is dead."  
  
"Who's Michael Chavez?" Joe asked, confused.  
  
"He was one of dad's old colleagues from when he was on the police force. I remember him…He used to bounce you on his knee, Joe." Frank explained.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I was how old?"  
  
"I think four in a half." Laura answered. "Well, your father is there investigating it up in New York as we speak. He caught the first train up there."  
  
"Investigating? You mean it was a murder?" Joe asked, interest perked.  
  
Laura shrugged. "All I know is he called me at the center telling me he'll be gone for the rest of the week and that Michael was gone. I don't really know what he's doing there, but considering how he seemed so secretive about it…I thought he was probably investigating something."  
  
"Or its possible he's just grief-stricken." Frank argued, taking a seat beside his mother.  
  
"Also possible I suppose. Anyway, dinner won't be ready for at least another three hours or so. Why did you boys come home so early anyway?" Laura asked, her gaze shifting suspiciously from Frank to Joe.  
  
Slowly and carefully, Frank explained what happened. Laura looked horrified.  
  
"Who would do such a thing to you two?" She demanded angrily. "You're not even on a case!"  
  
Joe shrugged. "We don't know mom and truthfully, we haven't completely ruled out that it was just an accident by some road raged idiot."  
  
Frank laughed at Joe's choice of words, which earned a snicker from his younger counterpart.  
  
"Actually mom, we were thinking maybe it has something to do with that letter dad received during the Stone hearing."  
  
Laura's eyes widened. "Oh my God."  
  
"What?" Joe asked in confusion.  
  
"Your dad's been receiving letters…strange things really…couldn't make sense out of them."  
  
"Do you have any of them?" Frank asked.  
  
Laura thought for a minute. "I think they're somewhere in your father's office."  
  
Joe nodded, rising from the sofa. "I'll look around. Be right back."  
  
"And mom," Frank said, looking up and into the small blue eyes of his mother. "Why don't you tell me everything you know."  
  
Laura Hardy sat down on the same spot in the sofa where Joe was, cupping her head into her hands. "All right…it started a few days after we received that first letter…"  
  
***  
  
Joe Hardy shifted a precariously stacked pile of papers from his father's desk. Everywhere there were cut-up newspaper articles or Xerox copies of police reports strewn everywhere. Finally, he came upon a small pile of papers bound together with a rubber band. He peeled off the rubber band and unfolded one of the letters.  
  
He read, "Knight C 5."  
  
Confused, he opened another letter. It read, "Pawn 4 D."  
  
He quickly replaced the papers and headed back into the living room where he looked from the wary faces of his mother to his brother.  
  
"I think I found them." He told Frank, handing his elder brother the letters he found in their father's office.  
  
"What does all this mean?" Frank asked, looking to their mother for a response.  
  
Laura Hardy rose and went into the kitchen. She returned with the chessboard the boys had found in the living room just that morning.  
  
"Your father believed that what's written on all these letters were chess moves." She explained, looking down at the strategically placed pieces. Joe took another glance at the letters and nodded.  
  
"He's right. I studied some of these moves back in the day. This one here," He told them, picking up a letter, "says 'Rook 3 E' that move's really popular…even has a name, though I can't remember it now."  
  
Laura nodded. "Your father was looking into it…but now with Michael's death I guess we'll have to wait until he gets back."  
  
"I don't think we can," Joe replied softly. Frank looked up into his brother's eyes and was troubled by the distress he saw there.  
  
"Why not?" Frank asked, chewing his lip.  
  
"This one," he pointed towards one of the letters, "is the newest one of the batch. And I remember the move."  
  
"You do?" Joe nodded.  
  
"It's the one Gordon used to beat me that time at the tournament."  
  
"Which means what?" Laura asked, confused.  
  
"It means in about six moves whoever sent these letters could take the king and win the game…"


	3. Chapter Three

"What happens then?" Laura inquired softly.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I don't know…"  
  
"Joe, you think you can show us all the moves on this chessboard?" Frank asked.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I guess."  
  
"All right," Frank replied, rising from his seat. "I'll call dad's cell to see if I can get him to tell us anything more."  
  
Joe nodded, studying the board intently and moving the pieces around to get a feel for it again.  
  
Picking up the cordless phone from the living room, Frank dialed their father's emergency contact number from his room. Frank let the phone ring for 12 times before he decided his father was probably never going to pick-up. Groaning, he rejoined Joe in the living room.  
  
"Got it?" He asked Joe, hopefully.  
  
"I think so. You remember two days ago, you and I were at Mr. Pizza with Tony and Callie?"  
  
"Yeah," Frank answered solemnly. "What about it?"  
  
"You stepped out for a long time and when we went after you, we found you outside-unconscious."  
  
Frank shook his head. "I still don't know what happened that day…it was weird. I thought I heard someone calling my name, I went outside and the next thing I remember I'm at home in bed with a bump on my head."  
  
"Well based on the postmark on these letters, the move I have down is "Rook D 6."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
"The opposing side lost a pawn."  
  
Frank's eyes widened slightly. "You mean…"  
  
"I think there may be some kind of correlation between the moves on this chessboard and all the weird stuff that's been happening this week."  
  
Frank looked gravely back at his brother. "The object of chess is to take the other player's king, right?"  
  
Joe nodded. "Of course."  
  
"Well, if this is some kind of demented game of chess someone is playing with us, which one of us is the king?"  
  
Joe thought about it for about a minute. "It's got to be you. You were the one they've been after. Today for example, the car was trying to hit you."  
  
Frank shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean I admit that the two of us are probably pieces on this chessboard too…but I don't think either of us are the king."  
  
"Then who do you think is?"  
  
Frank sighed. "Dad."  
  
***  
  
Joe slammed the phone down on the receiver-hard.  
  
"Drat! Where could he be?" He asked no one in particular. Whirling, he saw Frank's face etched in concern. Despite his own distress, he sought to alleviate some of Joe's with a quiet:  
  
"It's all right, Joe. I'm sure he's okay."  
  
"You don't know that…"  
  
Frank nodded. "I don't, but dad's capable of taking care of himself. I'm sure he's just too busy to pick up the phone right now."  
  
Joe nodded distantly, wishing he would believe Frank's words.  
  
"It's late Joe, why don't you go to sleep," Laura Hardy added, helpfully.  
  
Joe gave her a wane smile and nodded. "Sure. I do feel kind of tired." Just before turning to make his exit, he faced Frank again.  
  
Frank waved him away. "I'll get to bed soon too, don't worry." Nodding, Joe ascended the stairs and disappeared from view. A quiet clicking sound informed everyone that Joe had entered his room.  
  
Laura looked to her elder son, her tiredness clear in her small, blue eyes.  
  
"You get some rest soon too, all right? I'll go to bed now too," Pecking her son on the cheek, she quickly disappeared into the master bedroom.  
  
Frank fell onto the sofa, snatching the phone and dialing Callie's number. After two rings, a sleepy voice answered.  
  
"Callie? Sorry to be calling so late."  
  
There was a pause and a yawn. "I was waiting for your call. What's up?"  
  
Frank told her everything he knew so far starting from their father's disappearance to the strange letters to the chess moves correlating with certain "accidents" he was having.  
  
"That's awful. Who would do such a thing to you guys…and your father?" Callie asked, shocked.  
  
"I don't know Cal, I just don't know…" Frank replied a bit helplessly.  
  
"Don't worry. I'm sure between you and Joe, you'll figure it out."  
  
Frank smiled. "Thanks Callie."  
  
"Anytime. Hey, you know it's eleven o'clock already?"  
  
Frank laughed. "It's a Saturday. Don't tell me it's past your bedtime all ready?"  
  
"Wise guy," Callie replied, affectionately.  
  
Frank laughed again. "Okay, I won't keep you up. Good night."  
  
"Good night." Callie told Frank back. He waited for the usual click before replacing the phone on the receiver.  
  
Frank fell back onto the sofa and flipped through some random magazines. At around midnight he began to drift in and out of sleep. He was awoken abruptly by the sound of something snapping. He didn't have time to clear his blurred vision before he felt a strong hand clamp firmly on his arm and then over his mouth.  
  
Instantly he began struggling, causing the heavier man to lose his balance and nearly trip over the coffee table. There was a muttered curse and then he heard:  
  
"Frank...calm down, it's just me," a familiar voice hissed. Slowly, the hand was removed and Frank sucked in a breath.  
  
"Dad?" 


	4. Chapter Four

            Joe Hardy had a smile for every occasion. There was the 'cheesy photo smile,' the 'hello, cute girl, time to turn on the charm smile' and of course, Frank's favorite, the 'is this the face of someone who's guilty' smile. But when barreling down the stairs that morning and catching a glimpse of his father, standing in their kitchen, alive and whole, Joe burst out in his 'sincere and blissful' smile before throwing his arms around the elder man. Fenton laughed before returning the fierce embrace, a piece of toast still in his hands. 

            "Woah, never got this reception after returning from a business trip before," Fenton joked good naturedly. Joe sulked before returning the same sheepish grin his father wore.

            "Sorry I worried you, kid," added Fenton Hardy, looking for once, older than he really was. 

            "Who was worried?" Joe played off, blinking at Frank who rolled his eyes.

            Fenton laughed and patted Joe on the shoulder. Beside him, Laura was buttering his toast. 

            "Dad, I'm sorry about Michael," Joe spoke through a mouthful of cereal, his usual bright blue eyes downcast. 

            Fenton nodded and ruffled Joe's wavy blonde hair a bit with his fingertips before returning to his morning paper. Joe looked around the room, everything seemed so-normal. He eyed Frank through wisps of pale, blonde hair. Frank, flipping the pages of his copy of _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ (he was being tested on it this afternoon), shrugged innocently and mouthed the words, "I'll tell you later." Joe nodded and went back to his frosted flakes. 

* * *

[one night before]

            "Yes, it's me. Sorry for sneaking up on you like that, not bad for an old guy, huh?" Fenton Hardy asked, his usual grim face softening a bit when he saw the concerned look on Frank's face. The two men exchanged stares for a long while until Frank rose to clean up the mess he had caused fighting his would be attacker. 

            "Where have you been? We've been trying to contact you," whispered Frank in a tone that was harsher than he had expected.

            Fenton schooled his features to relax, seeing the weary state of his eldest son he guessed the last twenty-four hours must have been as bad for Frank as it was for him. "I'm sorry Frank, but I couldn't get in contact with you, Joe or your mother until I was sure whoever's after me wouldn't go after all of you as well."

            Frank's face fell. "You're too late for that." Shaking his head, Frank put a hand up to stop his father's next few words. "Back up and tell me everything. Starting with when those chess pieces came in, past your former partner's death and don't stop till you get to the part where you explain why someone's after you."

            Fenton allowed himself to crack a smile at that before gesturing for Frank to take a seat on the couch. "Sit down, son. It's going to be a long night."  

* * *

            "It's not a big deal Joe," Frank told his baby brother as the two maneuvered their way through the hallways of Bayport High, "Sometimes I just can't-"

            "Explain myself, not even to you," Joe finished his sentence and snorted. "Since when do you start quoting from dad?" 

            Frank stopped walking as he neared his destination. The two were going to have to face off just outside of Frank's AP Chemistry class. "I just. I can't tell you." Inwardly, Frank's stomach churned. He never had to withhold something his big from Joe before. He could only hope that Joe knew that this was hurting him as well. 'Forgive me, Joe.'

            "Why not?" Joe didn't pout much. Six foot tall, muscularly built football players just didn't pout. But when he did…Frank winced. Well, living with him all his life didn't even make Frank immune. 

            "I can't, Joe. I'm. I'm sorry," Frank walked into his class, not missing the wounded look on Joe's face. 

* * *

Joe awoke with a start. He schooled bleary blue eyes to focus on the face of his clock. Four a.m. He managed to sleep for two hours before the nightmares started again. In them it was always the same, he and Frank were pawns about to be crushed by a giant chess piece. Joe knew Frank didn't take much stock in hunches or "gut feelings," but when the sudden urge to check on Frank arose, Joe swung his legs over his bed and darted out of the room. 

Yes, he was mad as hell at Frank for withholding information about his father's escapades and whatever mystery is surrounding themselves and that weird chessboard, now moved into the den. Just because he loved his brother didn't mean he didn't get mad at him. They had their bouts sure, but in the end, Joe could forgive Frank anything. It was understandably mutual. 

            Sure enough, big brother was there. Asleep. 'Okay, now I'm getting paranoid,' Joe groaned inwardly, watching the rise and fall of the blankets in his brother's bed. Joe smiled, remembering that Frank snored when he slept, albeit lightly. Quietly, he left his elder brother's room, not wanting to wake Frank and have to explain why he was suddenly so jittery. But he also couldn't help but wonder what his brother was up against and if it in any way placed him or them all in danger. 


End file.
